


Comfort

by transnygma



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Eddie is trans, M/M, Nygmobblepot, One Shot, Oswald has a big softness kink, Season 3, Tetch Virus AU, That’s basically just fluff because Gotham is gone and I need it, slight mention of Lucius Fox
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 23:31:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18648343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transnygma/pseuds/transnygma
Summary: The Tetch Virus spreads into the town and, getting himself trapped, Edward might need to experience a part of him being shown to the world.





	Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> So it takes place at the end of S3, after Oswald got killed by Edward and the Court Of Owls revealed itself

So this is how he was going to end huh? Stabbed in the back after a misstep. If he knew he would’ve probably made the choice not to come. And as the pain engulfed him, like fire takes possession of a wood of dry trees, he could hear Nygma’s laugh in his head, mixed with Oswald’s. “You are nothing. You’ve never been able to do anything right.” His dad. Was it how dying felt? Because if he could he would’ve probably chosen the fastest way, some quick and free dead, like being shot in the head maybe? Everything was better than this slow dance into the unknown, tormented by his own flaws and mistakes. Oh he did much. Too much. But none he regretted.

His face hit the ground suddenly, being grabbed and shaken as his mind, blurred by the voices, stayed unable to react. No glasses on his nose? Maybe they fell, The Riddler couldn’t die without his glasses. If he was unable to have his hat, he would have his glasses. In a final push, that felt like his muscles were combusting under his skin, exploding like a grenade forced into his body, he reached for his glasses and was finally able to see. A seringue was in front of him, already used and broken into the action. 

As if nothing happened, he stood on his feet, pushing the person that grabbed him to let the small glass container slip between his fingers. “I am not dead.” His voice made it sound like an affirmation, but it was more of a question for whoever was able to hear it. 

In this situation, Nygma, who sat in front of him on a pile of debris, his legs bouncing back and fourth like a kid enjoying his time outside. “No you are not. Sadly. Looks like they decided to make it longer.” The hallucination jumped, approaching The Riddler with a smirk that would inspire nothing but fear into somebody in command of his brain functions, but not the man standing there. “Maybe we should use our precious time to play a little.” On these words, Nygma gave a look beside The Riddler, which made him turn his intoxicated head to find there Oswald, laying on the ground, both of his hands on his knee as he seemed to bleed to what would lead him to a very certain death if there was no reaction. “What should we do Riddler? Help him? Or let him there to die?”

The green man fell to his knees, still unable to coordinate his gestures, his eyes turning black as the thought finally reached his brain. He had to say it out loud to make it sound more real, to make it... clear. “Tetch’s toxin.” What he did not expect was the laugh that followed these words. He had been tricked, he had been victim of it by the hand of his truest nemesis. Oh he would not let Oswald die in such a pitiful place, he would enjoy himself a little bit. He stood on his feet again, like a new confidence and strength was finally enveloping him. He was able to do whatever he wanted to do. 

“Edward please. Listen to me...” Oswald begged, he would’ve never done this in normal times, but the only times he reached Edward was by showing vulnerability, and he was vulnerable, on the verge of dying by the hands of The Riddler. He escaped so many times and this is where it was going to end, because of Tetch and his obsession for his sister. Edward grabbed The Penguin by his shoulder, pulling him up and then throwing him on his own shoulder like he would do with a modest potato bag. “Edward, this isn’t you, don’t you want to wait until you are finally yourself to kill me? Make it a show? The Rid- You wont make it very well into the underworld after beating up an already wounded man who had no way to escape.”

“You talk too much Oswald.” The Riddler’s voice changed in the form of a growl. But he did not want to kill Cobblepot. Maybe he would’ve done it before, but not here. He even felt pity at the tears in the eyes of his old friend. Instead of speaking too fast, he just threw him in the backseat of the closest car he could find, ignoring whatever Nygma could be saying, his brain had never been clearer, he knew what to do, he knew who he was and what he wanted. 

Oswald remained silent during the car trip, the only sound leaving his lips were expressions of pain when Edward was braking a little too harshly, he was trying to plan ahead of whatever this new version of The Riddler was about to do. The only thing he was sure of was that there was no way they were driving to the pier to end it all in the usual drama, they were heading away from it. Elijah’s manor? Was Edward planning of doing it there? He already digged up his father’s remainings, he had no rights to dirty his memory like this again. “I thought you would be far more dramatic, you always had a taste for the spectacular, but there? This is low Nygma.” He was desperately trying to make him speak, but most of his thoughts were focused on his blood, quickly covering the floor of the back of the car, his head turning paler than ever. If he had to die could he at least make it quick? Oswald was about to add something snappy, looking for any reaction, but his head hit the door of the car, making him pass out by lack of remaining strength. 

When he awoke, Edward was bandaging his leg, his eyes focused on the work he was doing to keep The Penguin afloat. His lips opened and closed, saying a large amount of numbers that the second man couldn’t begin to understand. Was it french? Was Edward learning french while he was about to die? This man was full of surprises that was sure. “Are you going to kill me?” Finally, Edward’s eyes on him. Their light shade of hazel was gone, now it was just the deepest black he had ever seen. 

The toxin. It had a tendency to make people more violent than they were, but not Edward. He just became... Eddie. A nice creature that was just trying to make his wrongs right. He already went through the violent with The Riddler. His hand left the bandage he was putting on the other man’s wounded knee, and with all the precautions in the world, caressed Oswald’s forehead. “No. I am not going to kill you. I have no time for this.” He was finally at peace with himself, it was no time to fool around and try to kill the person that mattered the most to him. “Seven. Keep that in mind will you.” And this was the last thing Oswald heard before falling again, too shocked by the events.

The second time he left his dreamless sleep, it was the middle of the night, and he was in his bed, not a single blood drop on the sheets and no pain either. It would probably come back soon, so he tried not to enthusiasm himself and left the bedroom, trying to find where Edward could’ve gone. And it wasn’t quite an hard task, since he was shooting at a scarecrow, a literal scarecrow, in the garden. The shot noses would’ve probably made the whole neighbourhood come and complain if they were not aware of the Tetch crisis, it was better to stay inside and avoid getting into troubles.   
Oswald grabbed his coat and Edward’s, joining him in the garden in quest for answers, his limp seeming more supportable even without his signature cane. “Isn’t it a bit cold Nygma?” The Penguin felt like keeping a security distance between him and whoever which personality of Edward had decided it was a good idea to go outside at midnight to shoot at a scarecrow.

Edward dropped the gun in the grass, grabbed the bottle of wine he brought with him and joined Oswald in a quick three steps, how long were his legs to be this fast?, before grabbing his face and kissing him with the cheer of a football player who just won his biggest game of the season. The smaller’s man first reaction was placing his hand on his chest in attempt to push him away, but he couldn’t. It was too good to let it go in a split second, no matter how hard it was for The Penguin to think that it wasn’t him. It wasn’t Edward. It was neither The Riddler or Edward. It was just the toxin speaking.   
Eddie cut the kiss short to take another mouthful of wine, leaving the frozen Cobblepot outside, trying to get his composure back as the feeling of this man kissing him was still deep on his lips. It took him a minute maybe before he had to get back home, to avoid hypothermia. “What was it Edward? What game are you playing?” Oswald closed the door behind him, locking it to stop Edward from wanting to back and play with what was left of the grass man.

“I am not playing any game, what was the number from last time?” Edward fell back into the couch, his notepad back in his hands as he seemed to be processing a thousand of numbers each second. But what were they for? Oswald sat next to him, carefully taking the second man hand’s in his, still ready to react in case Edward had the fabulous idea of just throwing him in the fire or something like that. 

But nothing, he just stopped with the numbers and looked at Oswald, waiting for a question or a remark or anything. His fingers became intertwined with Oswald’s, and the silence sat between them. They were back. Back to that night. “Edward?” The second man answered with a little sound, his crow eyes still deep in his, now, friend’s, or maybe were they lovers? They kissed, this is how it works right? “Thank you. For my leg.” This is the only words that Oswald managed to let out, as Edward took his hand to his mouth to kiss him. He did not add anything, he just stared, the wine bottle now resting empty on the table. Maybe the silence was right?   
But the fatigue took Oswald back to reality. He stood up, keeping Edward’s hand in his as he was waiting for the green man to drop it, but he didn’t, he stood up seconds after him and quickly whispered embarrassed words like “I broke the bed in my bedroom” or “Please don’t make me sleep alone with Nygma.” Which made it clear of his intentions, he was trying to sleep with him. Who are you and what have you done to The Riddler? But maybe Oswald was too tired to actually process the chain of thoughts, he just went up to his bedroom, leaving his hand deep into the other man’s, and only broke the contact once he required the need to change himself in some pyjamas, while Edward was just looking all around himself, it was his first time in here, and it was superb. Just like the man occupying it. His glances slipped from the ceiling to the paintings on the wall to the bed, on which he immediately thrown himself on after getting rid of the uncomfortable clothes he had been doomed to wear since maybe 48 hours ago. He naturally took the spot that did not seem to be Oswald’s, quickly recognisable by the recent use of the pillow, and slipped into the covers, waiting for the other man like a kid would wait for their parents to tell them a story before leaving to sleep. 

The blanket was over his mouth, a little under his nose, and his hair in an indescribable mess, but Oswald could not help to smile at the sight, while joining him on what looked like his side from now on. Was it what he was doomed to live with from now on? He could get used to it. “You are the most mysterious man in all Gotham, Edward Nygma.” The man held him as a form of affection, quickly finding his natural spots with Oswald, who did not let himself think too much before falling asleep, convinced he would have to enjoy what was given to him before Edward deemed that being nice wasn’t funny enough for his ego. 

When the morning arrived, the spot next to him was empty but still warm, proving that this was not just all a dream for the bird man who would’ve probably had his heart immediately shattered if it was. “Edward?” Reconsidering the events of the past night, a wave of fear rushed through Oswald’s veins who jumped up after he couldn’t hear no answer from the second man, he ran down the stairs as fast as his bad leg allowed him, waiting to see Edward partially naked fooling around in the garden or whatever. But he was not, he was seated at the dinner’s table, in a perfect brown suit he probably borrowed from Oswald’s wardrobe, in the middle of a conversation with Olga in the only purpose of upgrading her English. When the purple of Oswald’s pyjamas arrived near his sight, he stood up, running to go and hold his friend. “I hope you slept well. We made you breakfast. I have to apologise, Lucius needs my help in the research of an antidote for the toxin, I will have to leave you in a couple of minutes.” 

A twitch from Oswald clearly warned Edward of his disapproval. Olga had left the room, finally taking a break from the riddle man who had been harassing her with riddles since 7 in the morning. “You cannot leave.” It was probably selfish of Cobblepot, but he did not care. His chest left Edward’s before grabbing his suit jacket, making eye contact with the other man. “I... I need you...” Maybe Edward was actually suffering of the toxin, but the idea never crossed his mind after all of his attentions from the past day. It was too hard to already say goodbye to this beautiful man. The second the antidote was injected in his organism he knew Edward was going to become The Riddler again. Wishing to let him in this state that was not his was clearly not the nicest thing he had done to Edward, but the man owed him. He almost killed him only a few weeks ago.

Edward lowered himself to give The Penguin a kiss, his face still frozen in the same giddy expression he had since the day before. It was not him, but it felt so good to let himself to Oswald finally. They both loved those moments. But Nygma was still here, constantly shouting about getting rid of the toxin, but never of Oswald. He was confident there would be no feud between them again before a long time. Before the next betrayal. For now, he had to get back to himself. To his Riddler self. He cut the kiss short to whisper to the other man a few “It’s going to be alright.” 

But Oswald was not falling for it, before the other man could react, they were both deep into the next couch, exchanging too long kisses to be sincere. Oswald was holding him back. Keeping him as much as he wanted. And Edward just wanted to leave to get himself back. They battled until they were back in the bedroom, constantly pulling each other back in a never ending touch or kiss. Until Oswald could not do it, sitting next to the bed with tears filling his eyes. He was scared. More than he had ever been. He let himself believe in this Edward, and should have never done it. Edward was just getting back dressed, on his way to the GCPD, silent as he had not been in a long time. As a form of goodbye, he just caressed Oswald’s forehead, just like he did the first time he woke up. This time it was just... sadder. 

The antidote did not took long for Edward to find, his mind had never been more opened than it was right now with the toxin, and after giving the first two samples to Gordon, he was finally able to take possession of one for him.   
The second he got back to himself, he stole a gun from an officer, after coming there unarmed, and rushed to the Cobblepot mansion in the car he used the day before, the car he would probably have to clean of Penguin’s dried blood on the back seat.   
The traffic was surprisingly fast, and once arrived in the house, he ignored Olga’s protests to rush to Oswald’s bedroom, the heavy metal resting in his hand, charged and ready to be used. And he almost did. The second man used him, he took advantage of his situation to give himself to whatever fantasy and ideal he had been cherishing of The Riddler. But the second his eyes met Oswald’s, who climbed back on the bed to not break his leg on the floor, his hand lowered the gun. Eaten by remorse and... was it pain? Cobblepot was at his worst state, tears flowing out of his eyes endlessly and painful smile on his lips that seemed to let read “just shoot me. I am ready.”   
The Riddler felt guilt, the gun dropped to the floor as he climbed on the bed to envelop Penguin in a hug, hoping to see this despair wash away from his face. 

“I don’t want to kill you Oswald. I want to love you.”

This time, they both knew it to be true.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m terribly sorry I failed to give an answer to who put that virus into Edward, because I don’t even know myself, but it’s not Oswald!


End file.
